


Styling by Caitriona

by superfluffycool



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluffycool/pseuds/superfluffycool
Summary: This story came about after several other Shippers wondered "what happened to Sam's bowtie?" at the TV BAFTAs a few weeks ago. They suggested he'd soiled it by pretending to be Christian Gray ("Mr. Fraser will see you, now."), I loved it, but I had a different idea...In one episode of Sex & the City, Samantha's boyfriend gives her a pair of underwear that are just a string of pearls (they're called Bracli), and I wondered if the same concept could work with fabric. I've NOT tried this, so if you do it, please be gentle!





	Styling by Caitriona

Tension. It was always part of their public appearances, now. Gone were the days of fun and carefree red carpets like they had in the beginning.

Caitriona had just finished her shower and was sitting at the hotel's vanity, a towel knotted around her chest. She was considering her bangs, again. The hair and makeup team they hired for their BAFTA appearance would arrive in 30 minutes and maybe she needed to even them out...

"A nieghan?" Sam called from the other room.

She poked her head out of the bathroom. Sam was standing in front of the closet mirror in his underwear, trying to tie a sensible bowtie.

"Why didn't you get the kind that fasten? They're easier."

He untied a sloppy bow in frustration. "I don't know. I should've asked for one like I did for --" He stopped. Smart man. He'd been about to say "the Vanity Fair party" or "LA" or "the Oscars" The whole thing had been a source of turmoil and it was better not to revisit it. The bowtie hung limply over his collarbones and he turned to her. "What were you doing? Trimming your fringe again?"

"No", she lied.

He came over to her and undid the knot around her breasts, the towel dropping to the floor. His fingers traced the vertebrae in her neck. "I hope you're not still upset about...*that*."

"I'm not", she lied. Again.

He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. His eyes traveled down her body. "Don't take off anymore."

"Do you not like what I did?" She lowered her eyes. Yesterday, she'd gotten a bikini wax and taken off more than usual, leaving nothing but a 'landing strip'. He was right - she had gotten a bit neurotic about her hair...

"I do like it." He tightened his grip and they kissed hungrily, backing her towards the wall.

She pressed against him and his erection sought her. The only thing separating their most sensitive flesh was the thin cotton of his boxer briefs.

"We can't. The hair and makeup team will be here soon."She pushed her hands against the muscles of his chest. 

He regarded her with hooded eyes and relaxed his grip, a smirk on his lips. "Turn around."

"Why--"

"Turn. Around."

She complied, not sure what to expect. He ran his hands from her hips up to her breasts and then along her arms, guiding them above her head and placing them against the wall.

"Sam--"

"Shhh." He covered her mouth with his hand and nudged her legs apart with his knee, keeping her steady with his other arm. She thought she knew what would happen next, but she was wrong. He took the bowtie and pulled it up between her legs and started a gentle tug of war between both ends, front to back. She staggered, needing the full support of the wall to stay upright. It was so much sensation all at once, coming from the most sensitive parts of her. The ache in her core began to rise and spread. She longed for more and more. Her body flushed. Her nipples hardened. She moved closer to the wall, her skin longing for contact with anything, but Sam stopped her and guided her hips and feet back to their original positions. She cried out at being denied.

"Do you like this a nieghan?"His voice was husky and deep.

There were voices in the hallway and she tried to stop her ragged breathing. Could anyone hear them?

"Do you want me to keep going?", he whispered in her ear.

All the worrying about her hair, his trip, the people outside, the event later - dissolved. She responded with a stutter, "Yes. Oh God, yes."

He began the gentle tug of war again. The fire in her core ignited, coursing up her spine until she felt it through her skull. Her breast ached to be touched, fondled. Her nipples, taken between his teeth. But she could do nothing but want. She was moving in opposition to him, yearning for more friction and release. His erection pressed against her left leg, his groans echoing in her ear. She came in an explosion of heat and sound. Sam held her to him as she shivered in ecstasy.

She was as limp as a rag doll after her orgasm. Sam threw her to the bed and took her, spilling himself in only a few thrusts and groaning as he grabbed the comforter with his fists.

They lay there, still joined, catching their breaths.

"Where did that come from?" She couldn't remember what she'd been doing five minutes before.

He caressed her face with his big palm, "I hated every minute of that trip. I hate every minute we have to pretend we're not together."

"I hate it, too."

They kissed.

There was a knock and both turned, expecting a greeting from the hair and makeup team.

"Room service!"

The door next to them opened and pleasantries exchanged. They both exhaled and giggled with relief.

"What are we going to do about your bowtie?" She asked him as he rolled on to his back.

He grinned, "Say we lost it. Ask for another one."

"Maybe you should skip it. You already did a bowtie at your last awards event."

"I did. Time for something new."

When their hair and makeup team arrived ten minutes later, they did not notice the limp bowtie poking out from under the bed.

"Are you wearing a tie tonight, Sam?"

"Nah, my stylist didn't want me to." 

Caitriona felt his eyes on her, but she didn't turn, choosing to meet his eyes in the mirror. They smiled knowingly at one another while their team remained oblivious.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about after several other Shippers wondered "what happened to Sam's bowtie?" at the TV BAFTAs a few weeks ago. They suggested he'd soiled it by pretending to be Christian Gray ("Mr. Fraser will see you, now."), I loved it, but I had a different idea...
> 
> In one episode of Sex & the City, Samantha's boyfriend gives her a pair of underwear that are just a string of pearls (they're called Bracli), and I wondered if the same concept could work with fabric. I've NOT tried this, so if you do it, please be gentle!


End file.
